


that fear of how things could've been

by seren0n



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Daddy Issues, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Mental Health Problems, Sort Of, im not super into tagging this as daddy issues but, not on scout's end, she's really only tangential, theyre working it out i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-13 09:41:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14746433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seren0n/pseuds/seren0n
Summary: Scout gets a letter from his mom that says he was an unplanned kid.He takes that as a negative, as anybody with serious family insecurities would, and decides to get answers out of Spy. And then they aren't the answers he went looking for.





	that fear of how things could've been

“So when were you plannin’ on sayin’ it?”

Spy groans as he turns away from his antique desk to face Scout, the boy’s murderous glare bouncing off him as he stares forward. He has little tolerance for people bursting into his smoking room on the best of days. “Saying _what,_ I happen to be preoccupied.”

It is sort of a lie given he just doesn’t want to be bothered, maybe Scout sees it, maybe he doesn’t care, but he forcefully shoves a crumpled up and somewhat damp letter into Spy’s face, too close and wrinkled to read until he plucks it out of the younger’s hands and skims it.

… Oh. _Oh._ No, no that wasn’t good at all. His coldness melts rapidly as his eyes widen.

_So she really told him that--_

“--that I was a _mistake?_ ”

 

It’s funny, or it would be in another instance, a better one, the way Scout can suddenly seem so tall and small at the same time when he’s spitting the words out of his mouth, and the way Spy feels so much like a doomed stag getting caught after years on the run from his hunter, at last, _finally._ The cat’s out of the bag for the first time, and it might be in just the worst way possible.

“You’re not--”

“Then y’feel like tellin’ me why she _says_ it? Right there?”

“Scout--”

“Y’weren’t gonna, were ya! You was just gonna leave it out, leave me in the dark huh? Have me look like a fuckin’ idiot? What, s’everybody else know? Same as the dad shit, was I the only one left out on the joke?! Huh?!”

Spy glues his mouth shut seeing Scout’s eyes water, voice wavering.

“Why do I even _exist_ when neither’ve ya wanted me or even _liked_ me?! Y’gonna tell me that? Can you at least fuckin’ _say_ somethin’ t’me, y’fuckin’ asshole?!”

 

Everything’s silent, heavy and suffocating in the room. And it’s more than just the tension between them, it’s _everything_ , the distant wind outside, the fireplace, he can’t even hear them breathing, though he sees the tense way Scout’s trying to keep from hyperventilating. Maybe breath control is an athlete’s skill.

He winces, and it nearly lights Scout’s fire again.

“Don’t _look_ at me like that--!”

“I am not looking at _you,_ Scout, please.”

“You’re a complete fuckin’ _asshole_ \--”

“And don’t I know it?! Did you come in here to yell at me or do you genuinely want to talk?” He’s regretting raising his voice even before Scout’s face pales a bit, angrily, everything about him is anger and sadness and just _upset_ , none of it his fault in the least. Spy closes his eyes, maybe unwisely, unsafely. “You don’t have to want an explanation from me, I do understand that.”

  


Nothing happens for a moment.

  


And then there’s the unsubtle rustle of Scout kicking at his carpet, he reminds the petty part of himself that life has more important things to worry about than dirt scuffs in his carpet, and he opens his eyes again. The letter crumples a bit in his hand before he makes himself set it down behind him. Wouldn’t want to rip the thing.

“Talk.”

“... What do you want me to--”

“I don’t _care, Spy._ If y’actually have anythin’ to fuckin’ explain then _do_ it, I don’t got all day. But if I don’ like it I’m punching your fuckin’ lights out, got that?”

“I expected nothing less.”

“So talk.”

Spy inflates his posture in his seat, his shoulders protest with the movement, and then he sags back into shape with a sigh. His eyes drift back over the letter, and he regrets it immediately.

_\--it was an accident Jer-bear, and your father wasn’t ready for the responsib--_

He decides to rest his gaze on floor. And then he decides that seems too sad and self-centered, so he tries for the fireplace instead. And then that hurts his neck and he has to finally confront Jere--Scout’s face. Firm. Determined. Hurt. Scared beyond what he probably even knows.

“... I don’t want to give you the wrong impression.”

“Too late,” Scout quips.

 _Too late_. He’s right, much too right, but Spy wants to try anyways.

“I meant about yourself. Yes, you were unplanned. Yes, I wasn’t ready, and neither was your mother.”

“Yeah. _Mistake--_ ”

He has a right to interruptions, Spy reminds himself.

“You are not a _mistake_ , Scout.”

“Oh yeah? That’s what this is soundin’ like!”

“Scout.”

“Y’know if you were gonna say y’wanna excuse y’self from the shit dad label y’could’a just _said_ so,” he spits, turning his back to Spy with a hard expression. “Guess I’ll fuckin’ see’ya around then, asshole.”

“ _Scout._ ”

“ _What?_ ” He whips around to scowl, and yell. “Change my mind or fuckin’ deal with it, y’know how it felt to live twen’y years without pops at home? Ma givin’ me a stare all the time, when she _had_ the time, everybody knowin’ I was the weird kid? The fuck-up? Everybody but _me?_ I don’ _care_ how bad you feel, maybe I wanna care about how bad _I_ feel right now, because I never knew I had the _option!_ ”

Spy can see the way his torso’s rising and falling so fast, how hard he’s clenching his fists, the way his knees are fighting to stay in place and storm out at the same time. Hears the poorly hidden sniffling, knows his voice cracked at the end there. Something in his chest heaves knowing this is his fault.

He only manages to speak up again when Scout finally turns around again, towards the door.

“I-it’s…” He clears his throat as quietly as humanly possible. “It… It wasn’t you.”

Nothing but slower breathing.

“It wasn’t because I… it’s not that I want to escape the reality. You’re right, a-about telling you. I wasn’t going to. Maybe that was wrong of me, I was scared that you would… blame yourself, not that you might be angry with me, I know I’ve earned that certainly, I was… I was scared. That you would be angry with yourself. And of… other things.”

Still nothing.

“Jeremy I--”

“Don’t.”

“I’m--”

“Don’t call me that. Keep fuckin’ talkin’ if y’know what’s good for ya.”

He’s so startled he almost nods, and then he almost tries to apologize again, and then he takes a slow deep breath. Tries to get ready to say what he needs to.

“... I’m not afraid of you calling me a bad father. You’re right. Leaving h-- leaving your mother, it was the easy way out. It was easy to take. It was wrong of me. I… I left b-because I was… not because I was scared of you, or your mother, not even for my job, though none of those would’ve been right either. I left because... I didn’t think I could… could give you anything positive.”

“Y’could’a been there for me.”

“And I could’ve been a nightmare,” he forces out gravelly.

 

He doesn’t expect Scout to actually laugh and look at him, not at any of this situation but especially not that, even with a sniffle. “You? Worst dad’a the century? Heh, I mean, shit I probably hate ya for everything, but I’ll take you over the doc bein’ my dad or somethin’ freaky.”

He manages a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Too solemn, too close.

“... Y… for real? I mean I’ve known people, sure, and all’a their dads are way beyond just bein gone, but you’d never.”

He laughs, coldly.

“That’s… that’s the funny thing, Scout, is… I don’t know. You… you do not need to know my problems, my life story, it would be irresponsible to give you. I do not want you to think you must sympathize with me over your hate for what I’ve done, or feel that I don’t acknowledge that what I did is wrong.”

“... But?”

“... But… I… I ask myself, often, very often, too often. I ask myself what I might’ve done, as a young reckless man, no idea how to raise a normal family, have a normal life, feel like a normal person, what I _could’ve_ done had I been pushed just the right way into stress, if I’d turned out well and truly incompetent without even the good intentions to make up for it. If I’d taken to alcohol, or worse just chose to let out my stress however I wished all on my own. If I stopped caring about how your mother felt, or how _you_ felt, and I started just seeing myself as right no matter what. There are awful things that I’m capable of, that I was capable of, things I would never wish even on my worst of torturers, and I have known some truly wretched ones. Things that I am terrified I could emulate if I let my guard down for even a moment.”

He feels his chest shuddering as he struggles to keep going, but he’s all out. He doesn’t think he’d go easy on his father either if that stain of a man were begging for his forgiveness.

Funny that, the thought of a long line of horrible fathers all being horrible just because it’s all they were shown, impossible to break. Maybe it’s only funny because he’s himself.

“So--”

“I--... I’ve never thought you were a mistake. I’ve never called you an accident, in my head or otherwise. I’ve never been disappointed in you. All my regrets are on me, and I never wanted to tell you because I knew you’d think that was how I saw you, or how your mother sees you. It’s not your fault or responsibility for being born, the mistake I made was being unprepared and running from it, even if I thought it would protect you. It’s never been right, or the best of my options.”

 

He can see Scout stumbling over his thoughts for a moment, turning himself halfway to look at Spy, and then look away to blink out some water before he’s looking back again.

“... That… that time, that one night, the one I died and came back, with all the robots n’ whatever, yeah? Snipes… he said you were... Tom Jones.”

“Naturally.”

“You…” He pauses, for a few seconds too long, too quiet, licks his lips and taps his foot and thinks about it, really thinks in that rare way he sometimes will when he cares. “... y’said you were proud of me.”

“And that I’ve always been proud of you.”

“Did’ya mea--”

“Every word. Well-- obviously not the things about being Tom Jones, and the Sex Bomb metaphor, that would be-- Yes. Yes, I’m proud of you.” His mouth fails him at the wrong time and his voice cracks, he stumbles on a choked up laugh. “I have always, _always_ been proud of you.”

“... Promise?”

“I swear it on all ten of the years I’ve been here working next to you and watching you, and protecting you, and being annoyed by your baseballs and _very_ loud swearing,” he laughs again, and feels the salt burning his eyes. He’s never asked a doctor why tears hurt when they came from your own eyes.

Scout sniffles, again. He’s not doing much better, poor boy.

He wishes he could’ve given Jeremy better. He wishes he could’ve given _her_ better too. He wishes--

Scout steps forward and tugs him into a hug, he would’ve noticed the slow movement for the warning it was if he hadn’t been caught up in himself. It’s not the first time he’s missed things that way. He wraps his arms around his son and they both relax into each other, and sob. It’s warm, it’s a catharsis for things they share and things they don’t. It’s enough to feel better, even if it doesn’t make up for it all really.

Spy can’t even want to make himself worry about tear stains in his suit. There really are much more important things in his life.

“I’m still gonna call ya an asshole though,” Scout mutters, and Spy laughs far too hard for that.

 

If that’s the worst he’s going to hear, he’s already been blessed with far more than he feels he deserves.

  


**Author's Note:**

> i wanted to be careful about this because i know stuff like having parents apologize for fucking up tends to go one of a few shitty ways that ultimately dont really apologize to you but rather to their ego. i also wanted to avoid things like spy just venting all his problems to scout because its pretty bad for parents to do that to their kids across the board. i don't promise i succeeded, but ultimately i wanted catharsis to make it clear that spy knows he fucked up and genuinely wants to do better for scouts sake
> 
> so we're valid in this shit dad chilis!! you're also valid if you cried i promise


End file.
